29 JUNE 1878, Page 16

TO PHIDYLE.

(Hor. ili., 23.)

INCENSE, and flesh of swine, and this year's grain-, At the full moon, with suppliant hands, bestow, 0 rustic Phidyle ! So naught shall know Thy crops of blight, thy vine of Afric bane, And hale the nurselings of thy flock remain Through the sick apple-tide. Fit victims grow 'Twist holm and oak upon the Algid snow, Or Alban grass, that with their necks must stain, The Pontiff's axe : to thee can ill avail Thy little gods with much slain to assail,—

And rosemary, and myrtle chapletries.

Lay on the altar a hand pure of fault ; More than rich gifts the Powers it shall appease, Though pious but with meal and sparkling salt.

AUSTIN DOBSON.